The Golden Key Chronicles

by AJ Nuest

  She whirled them around and pressed Caedmon’s back to the wall, reversing their positions. He was right. The door to the second chamber swung open at regular intervals, the priests coming and going with candles, smoldering thuribles or yellowed scrolls.

  One of the guards yawned and scratched his chin. “That big galoot on the left is half-asleep. If the rest of the guards are as lax, I could take out four before they even knew what hit ’em.” Plucking two silver stars from her belt, she stepped for the archway. “I’ll create a diversion and you charge straight for the key.”

  Caedmon jerked her back to his chest. “My love—”

  “I know, I know, I favor my left side.” She sized up the rest of the guards. “Just do me a favor and try not to kill anyone. I would hate to be the cause of that little boy’s tears.”

  He applied the tip of his finger to her jaw and turned her face until she met his gaze. “I was about to say, no matter what fate destiny brings us, my heart will always be yo—”

  A blur caught the corner of her eye and she sharply inhaled. Caedmon pressed his hand over her mouth, his arms steel bands shrinking them farther into the shadows.

  She didn’t dare breathe, didn’t dare move as a steady stream of black-robed priests filed into the hall. If one of them so much as glanced over his shoulder…

  A cloying, foul presence coated her skin and she gritted her teeth as a wave of nausea bled like spilled ink through her belly. Her eyes involuntarily watered as the last of the figures floated past. She blinked to clear her vision and terror gaped its jaws wide, swallowing her heart whole.

  The tension in Caedmon’s hand went slack. A bead of sweat traced down the side of his ashen cheek. Horror unlike any she’d witnessed before haunted her prince’s dark gaze.

  Gaelleod. He was here.

  She slowly twisted her shoulders, the muscles along her spine protesting as the assemblage of priests inched into view.

  The last of them stopped dead in his tracks. The moment stretched. Her pulse thudded in her ears like a frightened rabbit.

  Torchlight danced off his shiny head as he lifted his face skyward and his demented laugh vaulted along the marble walls. Goose bumps erupted on her skin. The eerie chortle seemed to come from everywhere…and nowhere…protracted deep and depraved.

  “Prince Caedmon.” Gaelleod pivoted. His cracked lips stretched into a ghoulish sneer and a silent shriek pierced the lining of her skull. “How delightful that you’ve returned.” His black gaze shifted to her and a whimper scuffed the back of her throat. “And you’ve brought me a gift.” He tipped his head, and his dead stygian eyes seemed to carve through her flesh to her bones. “This, I presume, is the mystifying R…A…L?”

  “Go!” A hard shove to her back and she stumbled sideways. Her foot caught on the edge of her cloak. The ground reeled. A jolt jarred her shoulders as her outstretched arms absorbed the impact of her fall.

  Caedmon’s roar of frustration pitched past the top of her head. Hard fingers dug into her sides, lifted her off her stomach and thrust her through the annex door. The two guards straight ahead of her frowned, but neither moved to unsheathe their weapons. Why would they? An ale-soaked lunatic and a clumsy woman presented no threat.

  A manic cackle rolled through her body on a crest of hysteria. It seemed she and Caedmon had achieved their drunken gypsy routine, after all.

  “Seize them, you fools!” Gaelleod’s command spurred the guards into action.

  They charged to the center of the room, their advance as inept as her bumbling entrance. Too many vied for position. Shoulders bumped and swords tangled as they unsheathed their weapons.

  All movement slowed.

  She tore the cloak from her shoulders, calculating their size and various angles of attack. A combat-ready tranquility flooded her muscles. Two silver blades whirred home to the centers of her palms. She crossed her arms, widening her stance, and eased a measured breath deep into her lungs.

  If they want a fight, then let…them…come.

  A twirl and her blade embedded into the meaty section of a corded forearm. A spin and she deflected the deadly edge of a sword. The guard behind her reeled back, choking and gurgling. Blood pumped through his fingers as he scrabbled for a hold on his neck.

  The knife in her braid! Shit, she’d forgotten.

  She dodged his flailing arm, placed her foot on his ass and shoved him straight toward the door. Caedmon leapt aside and the brute sprawled face-first across the threshold. A parried thrust and her prince delivered a sharp jab to his opponent’s larynx. The man’s eyes rolled back in his head. He toppled forward and crashed atop his bleeding brother.

  “Use them to block the entrance!” Caedmon delivered the point of his elbow to a jaw, punched the pommel of his sword into another man’s stomach and tossed the slouched guard onto the pile.

  Gaelleod’s priests clamored and howled, struggling to ascend the prone bodies.

  She pivoted and gashed, spun and sliced. The momentum of their attack helped her feed the injured men toward Caedmon to bottleneck the archway. Grunts punctuated the room as they landed. Their exposed blades added more wounds to the fray.

  A spine-chilling current exhaled along the nape of her neck. The candles in the room flared with a wraithlike aura. Shit! Gaelleod was about to unleash some bad-ass mojo. And three guards still remained in her path.

  She whirled and raced for the far wall. One, two, three—her feet dashed up the side. Wrenching her shoulders, she flew high through the air in a back handspring. White shock drained the guard’s face before his head protruded between her thighs. She dropped her butt to his shoulders, unfurling her arms down the length of his body, stretched for the floor with both hands and heaved. The guard soared over her, slammed into the remaining two men and they crashed in a heap to the ground.

  Caedmon was at her side before she’d regained her feet. “To the key. Now!”

  The crackle of magic sizzled along her arms. Sparks danced before her eyes as she twisted the handle to the far door.

  “You go to your death!” Gaelleod shrieked, an obscene ball of wizard’s fire growing between his palms. “There is no future where I will not find you!”

  She seized Caedmon’s arm and dragged him into the second chamber. He snapped the bolt in place, tucked her against his body and they dove, arms outstretched, for the floor.

  Blue-white light seared the crack between the hinges. A bone-jarring quake shuddered the walls. Rowena folded her knees to her chest, covering her head with both arms in case the door splintered under Gaelleod’s cruel spell.

  Gray smoke crept under the jamb. She coughed and waved a hand in front of face to clear the air. A moment later, the hammering of thick fists rattled the frame.

  “It’s still intact!” Caedmon leapt to his feet. “We must find something to barricade the door!”

  A shrill whine pinged in her ears. The floor pitched and rolled as she crawled to her knees and fought to regain her bearings.

  Myriad chests sat scattered everywhere, their wooden tops gaping open like the backs of legless mismatched chairs. Some displayed heaps of treasure. Others scrolled parchments or piles of bones, but none were large enough to bar the entrance unless they were stacked.

  A quick spin on her knee and she froze. Then frowned. What the hell was that piece of furniture doing here?

  “Your armoire,” she whispered at the same time Caedmon said, “My armoire.”

  She tilted her head back and met his perplexed stare. A sickening realization slammed into her mind at the exact moment awareness glittered in his dark eyes.

  “Braedric,” they spat in unison.

  At last, they’d found undeniable proof the reigning prince was in league with Seviere. How else could the armoire have gotten here? Braedric was the one who ordered Caedmon’s chambers sealed after she’d requested her own set of rooms. He was the one who’d sent his hashishans to their camp and ordered the rogue Dreggs to attack when Caedmon rode out with the key
. But why? What did he stand to gain by aligning himself with the enemy? And why deliver Caedmon’s armoire? His actions just didn’t make any—

  A loud crack rent the door and she was on her feet, racing for the far side of the room. Good God, what were Seviere’s men using? A battering ram?

  Working together, she and Caedmon heaved and shoved, pushed and pulled until the armoire stood centered before the entrance.

  The incessant pounding abruptly ceased. Muffled cursing echoed from the opposite side of the wood and Rowena tipped her head, straining to catch the words. Strange. Why had they suddenly stopped?

  Caedmon filled his lungs and nodded, swiping his forearm across his damp brow. “That seems to have deterred their efforts. For now, at least.”

  “Yeah, but why? That’s the real question. Not to mention, how are we supposed to get out of this room?” She glanced around the domed chamber, scanned the stained glass ceiling and the bizarre assortment of religious artifacts aligned along the creepy altar. “And what about the key? I don’t see it anywhere, do you?”

  Caedmon scrubbed a hand over his jaw, frowning at the armoire. He snapped his fingers, strode forward and depressed a small circular plaque along the top scrollwork. An internal whirring sounded and a small hidden door sprang open, disguised by a square rosette above the top left hinge. He reached inside the hidden compartment and a beaming smile lit up his face. As he withdrew his hand, a long golden chain snaked from the opening and, dangling from the end, a thick golden key.

  Rowena gasped and clasped her hands in both surprise and joy. “How did you know it was in there?”

  His smile morphed into a devilish grin. “You must wear the key to find out.”

  Arms extended, either side of the necklace twined through his fingers, he closed the distance between them and lifted the chain over her head.

  “Wait.” She placed a hand on his chest.

  His arms dropped as if they’d suddenly filled with lead. “Wait?” He searched her gaze and one of his eyebrows rose to a dangerously sharp peak. “Pray, do tell. What is the nature of my delay…exactly?”

  She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. This comment should be welcomed with all the enthusiasm of a Dregg in heat. “The thing is… I’ve just recently decided…”

  He crossed his arms. “Yes?”

  “I don’t really need it…exactly.”

  “What!” He stalked away, ripped the scarf off his head and shook it at her. “Of all the infuriating, confounding, imbalanced conclusions, why not?”

  “I just don’t, Caedmon.” She opened her hands at her sides as if they could somehow magically offer him the answer. “I don’t need the past any more. The only thing that matters to me now is you…us…our future. Don’t you see? You’ve already given me everything I need. And that’s more than enough. Because I love you.”

  He stood frozen, not blinking. Hell, he didn’t even appear to be breathing. His low growl gathered momentum and he strode forward, tossing the scarf aside. His hands cupped her jaw and his lips descended, searing a path of ecstasy over her mouth and cheeks, her eyelids and chin. A brush of his bottom lip along hers and his tongue swept in. Happiness cascaded through her heart. She grabbed his wrists and hung on as their souls mated and danced. Each flick of his tongue, each graze of his full bottom lip bespoke the strength of his devotion, until she soared higher than any magic or moonbeam could ever carry her.

  “I love you, as well,” he whispered. “More than Helios’ diamonds offerings number in the sky.” His hand left her cheek and he leaned away from her, the necklace tightly clenched in his fist. “Which is why you must grant me this one favor. Wear the key, my love. Let me gift you all your worthy heart deserves. Redeem your memories and together we shall share the history of our beginnings.”

  She closed her eyes and cinched her arms around his waist, placing her cheek to his chest. How could she deny him? How could she turn away the opportunity of knowing him from the first day they had met, or the chance to relive everything they had shared before she came through the veil?

  When she demanded her freedom, he offered her aid to defend herself. When she spoke her desire to reclaim the key, he stood strong and loyal at her side. How could she say no after all the selfless love he had shown her?

  The answer was, she couldn’t. “Okay. If it makes you happy. So I can remember everything we once shared, I’ll wear the key.”

  He withdrew a step, a gentle smile creasing the stubble on his face, and lowered the chain around her neck.

  A creak broke the silence in the room as the armoire door swung wide. A mirror hung on the back, shattered glass inside a gilt-edged frame.

  Starbursts exploded before her eyes. She clamped her hands on top of her head as the shards of her past coalesced and scrambled for placement. A moan leaked from between her compressed lips. The armoire. The key. Caedmon in the mirror. Her parents. An antiques shop. Oliver!

  The images rushed in with the force of a hurricane. They eddied and churned. Voices clambered in her ears.

  A shrouded legend. A group of garishly dressed men. The glass swirled and melded into one solid sheet. Caedmon failing to play that damn lute. Braedric’s deceit. A pinpoint of laser light zipped around the edge of the frame. Accepting his mother’s ring. Tumbling into his arms. Declaring her love.

  Delight surged and crested the base of her throat. Her laughter rang out like the chime of a bell. Tears of joy streamed down her cheeks. They’d made love! Before she lost her memories, Caedmon had carried her to his bed. Sweet tits, how had she ever forgotten the beautiful moments they’d shared?

  She spun to face him and leapt into his arms. The key! The armoire! Yes, yes, everything finally made sense. The armoire was the chest. And she was the key. All this time, Caedmon had been right. The blinding white light of the future was her.

  “Caedmon!” She wrenched back from him, grabbing his shoulders in both hands. “The mirror leads to the future. It’s our way out of here. We can go through the mirror.”

  His brow furrowed, concern darkening his gaze. “I cannot go, my love. Only you, remember? Only you and the key may cross the veil.”

  “No.” She stomped her foot and then laughed again. “That was before I believed. When I came through the first time, I didn’t know who I was. I didn’t understand. But I do now. I’m the key. Just like you said. The key and I are one in the same. The light of the future is me.”

  He slowly straightened, searching her face. A quick glance at the darkened glass and he refocused on her. “Do you know where it leads?”

  “No, but I have friends on the other side.” The excitement of seeing Oliver again, of hugging her dear friend, nearly stole her breath. “Wherever we come through, they’ll help us. I know they will.”

  His jaw firmed and he slowly exhaled. Nodded. “Right. We stay together. For the rest of our days.”

  “Until Helios no longer reigns in the sky.” Holding her hand palm up, she grinned when he slid his hand home, twining his fingers through hers. “Ready?”

  “Lead on, my love. I shall follow.”

  Heart pounding, Caedmon keeping pace at her side, she raced straight for the mirror and they leapt.

  Braedric’s Bane

  Book IV, The Golden Key Chronicles

  Chapter One

  “Oomph!”

  The impact of the fall drove the breath from his lungs. Caedmon clamped his jaw shut as a wave of nausea rolled through his system and he waited for his faculties to realign. He blinked and quickly took stock of their surroundings.

  Down the narrow hall at his feet, a dim light cast enough illumination to explain the patterned texture scratching his back. He and his lady lay on a decorative rug, her petite form sprawled along the length of his. The tight grip he held on her waist went slack with relief. Thank the nine she’d landed on top. His weight would have assuredly crushed her, had their positions been reversed.

  A frown ti
ghtened his brow as he trailed his focus over their bare feet, along their tangled, naked limbs, to the most enchantingly pert bottom he’d ever been blessed to admire. His scowl deepened. Goddesses wept, what had happened to their clothes?

  Memories of when his lady had first come through the mirror slammed into place, almost as if they’d been hindered by the ether of worlds crossed. Of course. Nothing of either realm, save her and the key, could bridge the veil…except, based on his own auspicious arrival, those fated souls she chose to traverse with.

  To complain of her state of undress held all the appeal of slicing his tongue out with a sharp blade, as did the departure of her luscious breasts warming his chest. Yet the circumstances surrounding such an inconvenience could not be ignored. Until their location and level of safety had been determined, his first task was to ensure their needs were well met.

  Her soft moan heated the side of his throat and she shifted against him. He smoothed a hand up her back, her skin a velvet shroud against the rough rasp of his palm, and applied a slight squeeze to her shoulder. “My love—”

  “Shhh!”

  Caedmon froze, his senses honed to the fine point of a needle. The hushed demand for silence had come from above and to his right. In whatever place they’d landed, they were not alone.

  He strained for any additional sound past the din of his pulse in his ears. Rowena yawned and his teeth clacked together when she ran the delicate tips of her fingers up and down the sides of his swiftly lengthening shaft.

  “Well, hello there,” she whispered.

  A frenzied thrashing and the ominous crash of shattering glass had him clutching his lady close as he scrambled to his feet. He stood his love on the floor, steadied her shoulders and spun as two stinging claps bathed the room in a bright glow.

  He raised his hand, fingers splayed to shade his view. The wizard who’d summoned the light sat bolt upright on his sleeping pallet, bare-chested, the blankets lying crumpled about his waist. He locked his wide blue eyes onto Caedmon, his narrow face pale with shock, and the barest hint of recognition tickled the back of Caedmon’s mind.